


Unsober

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [23]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Drabble, Modern Era, Non-Consensual Touching, POV Second Person, Vomiting, the usual soymilk isn't as present but mikleo's lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Mikleo knew he shouldn't have let Zaveid talk him into that party.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648339
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Unsober

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallblooky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblooky/gifts).



> a good discord friend of mine req’d “non-consensual touching” with Mikeo & Zaveid. me being the person i am, i took that prompt, said “ye 2nd person POV will do” and dropped it in my modern-day au. takes place prbly within that time period where, parallel to sorey having his who-knows-how-long-nap, he studies abroad for a semester. for reasons, mikleo isn’t able to follow
> 
> be careful reading! 
> 
> tw // alchohol, non-consensual touching, vomiting

She wouldn’t leave you alone and that was the problem. 

She saw you across the room, one lonely heart in the midst of the rest, and waltzed up with a smile and two cups in hand and you had already had plenty of lemonade and vodka, but the lie on her lips made one more not seem so bad.

You don’t remember how the cups disappeared.

You remember the twin points of thin fingers looped into the front belt loops of your jeans. You remember the way they tugged you forward and your hips were met with a warm stomach against your own, breasts pushed against your chest. Her fingers splayed over the buttons of your shirt; it tickled, almost. The warmth of her hand over cotton. You remember her hazy and breathless giggle tilted up against your jaw.

She said, “Aren’t you the…” and you don’t remember how she knew you or recognized you on campus, but she did. Or she seemed to, anyway.

You remember the rough, fabric-caught slide of her hand further down.

You don’t remember how you recognized the line of your jeans around your waist as a line in the sand, but you know the instant you decide it's too much. The alcohol, the music, the number of sweaty college students shoved into one living room, the absence of your best friend,  _ her. _ You shoved her back and felt cold.

Her friends’ voices pitched as she stumbled against the arm of the couch. They pooled around her and sneered at you and you don’t remember caring.

You said something. Probably.

You hope you did.

But memory is a graceless thing so it slips, and the next thing you remember is a fan of white-green and the rim of a toilet seat before your face as bile climbs up your throat. There are many things to hate about vomiting, but you thought and still think the inability to breathe is the worst, because all you can taste and breathe is stomach acid.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you rasped.

The man at your back, lounging against the far wall, sighed. “If you’re gonna blame somebody, blame me. Wouldn’t have invited ya if I didn’t know you couldn’t hold liquor, Mickey-boy.”

You remember shaking your head and grabbing for the roll of toilet paper. You wiped off your mouth and tossed it in with the rest of your mess to flush it away. You thought, “It’s not that I’m drunk that’s the problem,” but maybe you said it, too, because you remember the way he squatted at your side, bronze hands dangling in the space between his knees.

“Yeah,” he said when he rose to his feet. “Let’s get you back to your dorm, then.”


End file.
